Traditions
by The Treacle Tart
Summary: SLASH It started on Christmas Eve nearly a decade ago... RW-SS COMPLETE.


**Author's Notes: **Many thanks to abigail89. All remaining errors belong to me.

**Traditions**

He could hear the sounds of celebration ringing from the Great Hall: Christmas music played on enchanted instruments, accompanied by off-key singing, Hagrid's booming, eggnog-enhanced laughter echoing over the din, and excited, boisterous conversation underneath it all.

Ron Weasley always loved Christmas at Hogwarts, even when it was just him and Harry alone in their dormitory. There was something so wondrous about the way the castle lit up and sparkled in the long winter's nights, as if the North Star itself resided in its halls.

Hagrid would cut down the tallest tree he could find in the forest, usually three times as tall as himself, and drag it through the courtyard signaling the beginning of the holiday season. Professor Flitwick always made a show of decorating it: levitating ornaments and making them float about the room, enchanting the nutcrackers to march in formation to the tree's base, and making tinsel fly and swirl in a wave through the air before situating itself on the sturdy branches. Professor Sprout would hang a piece of mistletoe in the doorway closest to the teachers' tables and plant a firm kiss on Filch's cheek whenever he complained about it. The headmaster would order triple the normal dessert to be served with the evening meals, and Professor McGonagall would convince the house elves that double the amount was indulgence enough.

Ron paused and looked through the window that showcased the grand tree and its festive adornment. Despite all that's gone on over the decade since he finished his schooling, and all the changes that came to Hogwarts during that time, those traditions still continued. The tree was still the tallest that Hagrid could find, but Professor Abbott decorated it now; she made sure to do it with the same flair as Flitwick, the younger children enjoyed it so. Professor Sprout still hung the mistletoe but put it in all the doorways, and though Filch stopped complaining long ago, he still came around for his kiss. Since Dumbledore wasn't there to order too much dessert, Headmistress McGonagall would do it herself. And with no one to tell them otherwise, the house elves complied with great enthusiasm.

With a small smile and a reverential salute to the great stone walls of the castle, Ron paid his respects and continued on his way.

The fresh snow crunched beneath his boots as he made his way to his destination. The bright white flakes fell so furiously around him that his foot prints filled as quickly as he made them. But despite the cold, biting sting of the night air and what could very well have been the start of a blizzard, Ron found himself immersed in the calm quiet he always felt when he made this journey.

The Weasleys had their own Christmas traditions. The air would be full of the rich scents of Christmas dinner. Mr. Weasley would be trying to convince Mrs. Weasley that it would be all right to allow a few gifts to be opened at midnight instead of everything on Christmas morning. Hermione would arrive after dinner with her own family to drop off gifts.

Ron 's smile broadened as he thought of how those traditions have evolved as well. The house still smelt of delicious foods but Ginny insisted on doing some of the cooking. And while her roast beef was always a bit dry, her chocolate crinkle cookies needed to be hidden lest they disappear before all the guests had arrived. Harry, in fact, would most probably have eaten a third of them as soon as they come out of the oven; being her husband, he felt he had that right. Mr. Weasley still insisted that a few gifts be opened at midnight, but the growing number of grandchildren that filled the Burrow was his current excuse. Hermione still came after dinner with her parents, but now she was an actual Weasley as opposed to an honorary one. She and George would always split the night between both families.

Like nearly every Christmas Eve before it, the Burrow would be bursting with people, and like the Great Hall of Hogwarts, full of music, laughter and joyful voices. But despite not being there for the past nine years, he found he didn't miss it. Everyone had traditions that were special to them, Ron was no exception. He would join them on Christmas morning. They would all have breakfast in their pajamas and newest Weasley sweaters. They would choose sides for the snow ball fight that was sure to take place that afternoon. They would welcome friends who came to visit and sing carols. But almost a decade ago, on Christmas Eve another tradition began, and Ron found he looked forward to it most of all.

* * *

The freezing rain clattered against the window pane of the cramped, rundown cottage. The wind howled and whipped up dry twigs and rocks, and slammed them against the thin door. Ron tightened his cloak around his shivering frame as he waited with nothing but the flickering light of his wand to keep him company. His contact would arrive shortly with some documents that proved the Ministry had been supplying materials to dark forces across Britain. It was just what Dumbledore needed to finally oust Cornelius Fudge, and it was Ron's assignment to wait for the spy to bring the papers, and take them to the headmaster.

It wasn't how he had hoped to spend Christmas Eve, but Ron had insisted on taking the mission. This was a simple task and everyone else was either already working on something, or too injured to go. The Order was severely under-manned and no volunteer could be refused, not even a seventh year student who passed his Apparition test on his third attempt. Now, three hours after the pre-arranged rendezvous time had passed, he started to wonder what he was thinking. He felt he couldn't return empty handed; it would mean he failed at his first solo mission and that wasn't something he was willing to do. On the other hand, waiting in a ramshackle cabin, during the worst winter storm of the year for someone who might never come made him look foolish and terribly green. He seemed doomed whichever option he chose; it was a feeling he hated to admit he felt far too often.

Sleet pounded against the roof; Ron was sure the entire house was about to collapse on top of him. As he walked to the window, his gait weighed down by disappointment, he considered calling it a night and crawling into bed where he hoped to take root for several days. He peered through the frosted glass, into the blackness on the other side, when he caught a glimpse of something moving between the trees. Whatever it was making its way towards him was large, broad as an ogre and as lumbering. It wasn't until the hulking, awkward mass was on the doorstep that he realize it wasn't one person but two, and that the clumsiness was attributed to one of them dragging the other though the icy storm.

The door was kicked open by one precisely placed boot and both figures stumbled in and fell promptly to the floor. Ron closed the door behind them and rushed over to the side of one tired and highly annoyed Potions master.

"What are you still doing here?" Severus Snape groused through wheezing breaths.

"Waiting for you, I suppose." Ron tried to help him to his feet but found that Snape was not all together accepting of his assistance.

"It's well passed the appointed time; you should have left hours ago."

"I thought the storm might have held you up, so I waited."

"It could have been a trap."

"It could have been frostbite."

Perhaps it was that the professor looked decidedly less intimidating with his nose all red and his lip shivering, or perhaps it was Ron's frustration at being reprimanded for something he already felt badly about. Whatever it was, he wasn't in the mood to be berated by anyone. "It doesn't matter anyway; you're here now so let's get on with it."

"You weren't waiting for me. You were waiting for him." Snape motioned to the unmoving body that lay sprawled on the floor.

Ron looked at still body that lay on the ground. His stomach dropped at the sight of familiar red hair wet with sleet and frost. He dropped to him knees a quickly flipped the unconscious form over. "Percy!" he gasped as all the wind was knocked out of his lungs. He turned to the Potions master, his eyes burning with tears and anger. "What the bloody hell is going on, Snape? What happened to Percy?"

Snape sat on the ground and rested his back against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. He eyed Ron for several minutes before speaking. "Mister Weasley has been passing information on the Ministry's activities to the headmaster for over a year now. Last week he contacted Dumbledore and told him he finally found the nail to the coffin: detailed documents that proved, undeniably, that high ranking Ministry officials were in Voldemort's pocket."

"Percy is a spy? Why didn't anyone else know?"

Snape sighed dramatically. "Because he is a good spy, you twit."

"Well, not that great apparently, as it would appear you had to rescue him from something."

Snape closed his eyes. "It wasn't his fault," he said slowly. "It would appear that during his investigations, Mr. Weasley found out that my activities weren't as covert as originally thought. I was supposed to be made an example of this evening. Your brother took a detour on his way here to warn me."

Ron ran his fingers through his hair to find that they were shaking. Percy, the estranged brother he practically disowned, risked his career to gather information and his life to save the Potions master. Percy may have very well died tonight and no one would have known why. No one would have known what he had sacrificed. "What happened tonight?" Ron asked through a coarse and cracking voice.

Snape finally opened his eyes and waited a few moments before answering. "There was supposed to be a meeting of several prominent Death Eaters. I was told that that I would be welcomed back into the inner circle. In truth, no such thing was going to happen. I was to be the night's entertainment instead. Your brother found me just before I reached the meeting place. Unfortunately, we were spotted and attacked. I managed to disarm many of them but that didn't stop them from using brute force. Percy was hit with spells before I could neutralize them, and with fists afterwards. I finally managed to incapacitate them all briefly enough for us to escape. I could only Apparate us both for short distances. As his condition deteriorated and the weather worsened, it became necessary to walk. I did my best to keep him warm, but we've been on the move for nearly five hours."

Ron couldn't take his eyes off his brother. It was all much too much to comprehend. The Percy Snape described was a far cry from the megalomaniacal bureaucrat Ron had grown up with. To think of all that he had said against Percy during the last few years, how cruel and indifferent towards his older brother he had been; Ron was ashamed of himself. He took out his wand and pointed it at his brother.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked, his own hand reaching into his sodden robes and tightening around his wand.

"I was going to move Percy to the bed so be could be more comfortable."

Snape's grip loosened and his body slackened as he fell back. "Not with magic," he said breathlessly. " I'm not sure what injuries he sustained. It could do more harm than good."

Ron nodded. "Okay. Can you move?"

Snape nodded tiredly. "Yes."

"Help me lift him, then."

Snape slowly got up and made his way to where Ron stood near Percy. Together they carefully lifted Percy from the ground and carried him to a small cot in the corner of the room. Ron removed Percy's wet clothes and covered him Percy with the only blankets he could find in the whole cottage, and his own cloak. He walked over to the window through which he had first seen them fighting to get through the storm. "It's getting worse."

"Thank you for stating the obvious."

Ron ignored the remark. "I'll stay with him. You Apparate back to Headquarters and get help."

Snape hesitated before he was spoke, his eyelids falling as if holding them up was to daunting. "I'm afraid that isn't possible."

Ron turned to face him. "What do you mean? Why?"

"It would seem that I too was hit with some kind of spell. My magic gets weaker and weaker every time I use it. That would be the reason I could only Apparate short distances. I'll have to stay. You must go."

"And leave you both here unprotected?"

"I don't need a child to look after me."

"I'm not a child. And it would seem that you do." Ron stopped to assess his situation running his hand thought his hair and scanning the contents of room. Without saying another word to his professor Ron walked over to where a small wooden table stood with four chairs around it. He picked up one of the chairs and smashed it against the wall.

"What the blazes are you doing now?"

"Making firewood? It's freezing in here and will only get colder as the night goes on. We need to start a fire. The fireplace is in working condition, but there's no wood in reserve. This will have to do. "

"Have you forgotten you're a wizard? You can keep a fire going without destroying property."

"Listen," Ron snapped, his eyes narrowed, "we have no idea what you or Percy were hit with. It would appear to me that we need to preserve the energy of the one wizard who still can use his wand. Sustaining a magical fire for an unknown period of time isn't the best way to do that. There is enough material for us to burn to keep warm for a long time if we need it. "

"Fine," he replied and sat back down on the floor.

Ron stopped his destruction of the chair and turned, a look of abject mystification on his face. "Fine? That's all? No deduction of house points for raising my voice? No complaints of Gryffindor impulsiveness?"

"When we are both back in our natural element, Mr. Weasley, I promise to chastise you with the vehemence you rightly deserve. As I am currently too tired to argue you will have to settle for a 'Fine'."

"Is that your way of telling me I'm right?"

"Rest assured, I would never say such a thing."

Ron smiled for the first time that entire night. "Of course not."

The storm was getting worse. Apparating in those conditions was dangerous. Any attempt to go looking for help, or any chance that help to would come looking for them, would have to be put off until morning. Hopefully by then the worst of the storm would pass. In the mean time all they could do was wait.

After Ron had gathered anything that could be used as kindling, he sat on the floor across the room from Snape and watched the Potions master. He had spent so much time trying to get out of class without attracting too much attention that he never really took a good look at the man. He couldn't help but notice how tired Snape seemed. There were lines etched deeply on his skin that had nothing to do with age. And if Ron didn't know better he would say Snape looked…sad. There was anger there, as well, but that was expected. Other emotions seemed so alien on the pale, angular face.

Ron felt the compulsion to talk, a nervous habit he picked up from his mother. He didn't think Snape would be interested in idle conversation so he tried a different tactic. "You want to play chess?"

Snape looked up, sheer surprise on his face. "Excuse me, did you say something?"

"Chess. Muggle Chess, actually. Not as exciting but it will help pass the time. I found an old set while looking for things that could burn. There are a couple of pieces missing but I'm sure we could find substitutes. Do you want to play a few rounds before we have to toss it in the hearth?"

Snape continued to stare at Ron in bewilderment. Then, with an almost unnoticeable shrug, and for the second time that evening said, "Fine."

Twenty minutes later they sat on the ground, an ancient chess set on the floor between them. Two small rocks stood in place of pawns, an empty salt shaker was a bishop, a spool of brown thread was a knight, and a thimble was a queen. With the storm raging outside, they played.

Ron won the first few rounds quickly. Either Snape was a horrible player or he wasn't even paying attention. "You're not concentrating on the game," he said.

"I've more on my mind than a silly game, Mr. Weasley."

He stared his professor, on the lined face that so seldom smiled. "You're thinking of Percy, aren't you?"

Snape looked up, the sadness more prominent than ever. "Why do you say that?"

"You keep looking at the cot," Ron looked down and set up the board again.

Snape sighed softly but didn't speak.

"You've been wondering what went wrong. How they knew you weren't really returning."

"Something like that." He picked up the thimble that replaced his queen and rolled it in his fingers.

Ron chewed on his lip for a bit before summoning the courage to say, "You think someone betrayed you. Someone close to you."

Snape blinked rapidly but he didn't look up.

Ron grabbed his king and queen and held them in his palm. He studied them for a moment in the flickering light of the fireplace. "In chess you need to pick a side, either black or white," Ron said thoughtfully. "There's really no place else to go. I used to wish life worked like that. That our choices were clearly defined for us: right or wrong, good or bad, black or white. But there's really so little that is black and white, isn't there? So much grey… and red and blue and green for that matter, and we really have no idea what all that means."

"Trying your hand at philosophy, Mr. Weasley, "Snape said softly.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know about philosophy, Professor. I just know that I like chess."

Snape turned his lip up just a fraction of an inch, but it was enough to let Ron now he said something right.

The next game was better. Ron had a feeling Snape would be a great chess player and he was proving him right. Hours passed and snow and ice continued to fall. The wall clock, the one Ron could not bring himself to throw into the fire, began to chime.

"Happy Christmas," Ron said as the last of the clock's chimes melted away into the air.

"What?" Snape looked up as if startled.

"Happy Christmas. It's officially Christmas day."

"Christmas?" Snape said softly as he turned to face the clock .

"Yeah," Ron said wistfully. "Mum is most probably finishing up my sweater which she always knits last because I grow out of them so quickly. Bill and Charlie are drinking hot cider and catching up on the past year; they don't see a lot of each other. Dad is trying to assemble some Muggle gift he got one of us. Fred will come down after he goes to bed to fix whatever mess Dad made. And I …I -"

"And you are trapped here." Snape looked genuinely sad at the revelation.

Ron was surprised by Snape's expression, almost as much as the fact that the professor had heard a word Ron said. "So are you," he offered. "You're trapped here, too."

Snape gave a small laugh. "I have a feeling this day is usually a bit more festive for you than it is for me. I can say with great certainty that this is not the way you'd probably prefer to be spending the holiday."

"I don't know," Ron said bringing his knees up and leaning his back against the wall. "It's not so bad. It's really quiet."

"And that is good a good thing?"

"It is when you've grown up with Fred and George," he said with a laugh. "The Burrow is a loud place. My mother screams, my brothers blow things up, my father plays with Muggle things – they usually blow up, too, come to think of it – and Ginny's always grumbling about something. At Christmas time you add Charlie and his friends, Bill playing music at ridiculous volumes, Percy…well, when Percy was there he'd be yelling at everyone to keep quiet because he had something incredibly important and usually frightfully dull to do. There was never a moment of quiet. I know this isn't the best of situations but it's not bad. If you make me admit it I might even say it's…well… nice."

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment. "It is nice, I suppose."

Ron wanted to laugh, but he didn't think Snape would appreciate it. All the same, he had to admit there was something almost cute about hearing the sour, gruff man he often referred to as the "overgrown bat" say the word "nice." "It would be downright fabulous if we had something other than water here. I'm starving."

"Food? I have some supplies in my robes."

"Food? You have food and you didn't tell me!"

"I always carry something with me when I go out on a mission, one never knows when he might find himself in the middle of nowhere, in a blizzard, burning furniture to keep warm."

"Are you mocking me? Because that isn't terribly wise when I haven't eaten in half a day."

"I am mocking you. It's what I do. You eat. Potter disregards rules. Granger corrects everyone. And the world happily spins on."

"I plan to argue that Harry doesn't disregard rules, but I will wait until I see what sort of food you have before I start in." He walked over to where the robes were drying by the fire and found that, indeed, one oddly deep inner pocket had some bread, some dried fruit and nuts, and a flask of liquid. He brought the provisions back to where they had been sitting on the floor and handed Snape some bread. "Happy Christmas, sir."

Snape accepted the offering with a small smile. "Happy Christmas, Mr. Weasley."

They ate in silence. Ron put some bread and fruit back in case Percy woke up and was hungry. Luckily for him Percy was allergic to nuts, so he could continue to munch on them. Snape had only eaten a little bit. Ron wondered if he was still thinking about who betrayed him, or if he was just eating less so there would be more for Ron. Either way he found himself thinking fondly of the usually snarky teacher and considered it to be somewhat of a Christmas miracle. "What do you usually do on Christmas, Professor? I don't remember you being at any of the holiday dinners at school."

"Not if I can avoid them, Mr. Weasley."

"What do you do then?"

Snape seemed to regard Ron for a while. It was a look that used to make Ron shiver in his seat in the classroom. Now, Ron saw it as not necessarily a patronizing look, but a scrutinizing one. This was probably information that Snape had never shared with anyone before and that he was most likely deciding if he wanted to do so now. It was a matter of trust, and of friendship, and Ron found that he really hoped he passed the test.

"I usually spend the holiday alone," he began. "It's a time of year I like to spend thinking of the family and friends I have lost over the years. Paying tribute, I suppose, to those that meant so much to me."

"That seems so sad."

"Does it? It really isn't. It's too quiet for most I suppose but I rather enjoy it. Sitting by the fire, with a glass or two of wine and remembering."

"So it must feel like I'm intruding on your private time."

"It should but it doesn't. As you said earlier Mr. Weasley, it feels nice."

"Can you call me Ron?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't something I do."

"So you mock people and you refer to them by their last names. Anything else?"

"Now you are mocking me."

"I'm a quick study."

It was with those words that an understanding had been reached. Not the exact terms perhaps, but a change of some sort between two people who might never have otherwise welcomed one.

Despite his efforts to the contrary, Ron fell asleep shortly afterwards. Sometime later, he was awakened by a blast of freezing air and the sound of voices. With the heavy haze of sleep still upon him he jumped up, his wand firmly in his hands and pointed in the general direction of the voices.

"You can put down Excalibur, King Arthur. We are safe."

He was about to ask who the hell King Arthur was when his realized his wand was pointed at a smiling Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Sorry," he muttered, his voice still thick with sleep.

The room seemed to shake with the Auror's deep, booming laugh. "No problem, Ron. Just be a little more careful where you point that thing. "

The rest of day passed in a flurry of hospitals, meetings, paperwork, concerned friends, and his wonderfully loud parents. Ron noticed that amidst the confusion Snape managed to disappear. While the Potions master may have returned to the solitude of his rooms and the life he lived before their encounter, Ron couldn't help but feel that he couldn't do the same. Things were different now. His brother was home and his most hated professor was his friend.

It was when Percy was telling his tale to a room full of Weasleys that Ron realized his feelings for Snape had changed. He didn't fear him anymore because he understood him better. And nothing was as frightening in the daylight.

He felt he should say something to his professor, a goodbye or a thank you at the very least. Nothing seemed appropriate. Nothing seemed right. In the end he decided on a small gesture. The following night Severus Snape would open the door to his quarters and find a package on his doorstep containing bread, dried fruits and nuts, and a bottle of pumpkin juice with a simple note that read 'For next time'. Ron would find out many years later that Snape kept the note in a copy of an old book called _Le Morte D'Arthur._

A few months after that fateful Christmas, when the corruption of the Ministry was revealed, the wizarding world would find itself in full scale war: the Dementors took back Azkaban, trolls attacked Muggle cities, the giants split their loyalties between light and dark.

On August the 17th, Harry Potter would end it. The sky burned red for three days.

Ron remembered very little of that time; a routine reconnaissance mission turned out to be a trap set specifically to capture him for use as bait. The Order suffered no fatalities, but he and Tonks were badly wounded. He woke up in the infirmary a week after the incident to find that it was all over; Voldemort was dead, Harry was alive, and nothing else really mattered.

He remained in the hospital, listening to the joyful sounds of celebration just outside his window. And while part of him wished he was in the thick of it, laughing with his best mates, drinking his weight in Fire Whiskey and ale, he couldn't help but think he rather liked the quiet of his room. That he rather preferred to take a moment and think of the family and friends that had been lost over the years.

Paying tribute.

It was then that his thoughts traveled to a dark dungeon, and he wondered what the Potions master was doing that very moment. He supposed it should feel odd to think of Snape at that time, while the world reveled in its new found freedom from fear, but it didn't. As it hadn't felt odd when his mind wandered over to those dungeons a few dozen times since last Christmas. It felt comforting and warm. Quiet.

Ron would see little of Snape over the next few months. It took a while for the world to right itself. There would be meetings. There would be trials. There were houses to be rebuilt. Injuries to be healed. Ceremonies to honor heroes. Memorials to grieve for the lost. Weddings that were postponed for far too long. Before he knew it Christmas had just about come around again and he had never found an opportunity to talk to Snape.

The morning of Christmas Eve found the Burrow in its usual state of chaos. Mrs. Weasley was preparing enough food to feed a small nation and Mr. Weasley was trying to figure out the sleeping arrangements for the population of said small nation. The twins were tormenting Ginny and Harry, making it impossible for them to find a moment's peace. Charlie was trying to organize an impromptu Quidditch game with a dozen or so of his closest friends, and Bill was harassing Percy as it was his first opportunity to do so in quite some time. Ron found comfort in the familiarity of it all.

The bustle of the holidays continued around him as he sat and tried to enjoy it all, to allow the memories of a lifetime of such Christmases to warm him. But as the day progressed, Ron found that one particular Christmas Eve seemed to overshadow the others, and in a flash, he realized what he wanted to do. He quickly got up and entered the kitchen where his parents were having their usual Christmas Eve discussion.

"But Molly, dear, this is a special year. Percy is back with us. Ginny and Harry are practically engaged. Bill is bringing his girlfriend home for the first time. Surely it would be all right to open some of the gifts tonight."

Molly dear was about to answer when she noticed Ron enter. "We'll discuss it later ,Arthur," she said with a small smile. "Ronald, is there something wrong? You look a bit flushed."

"Yes. Well, no, there isn't anything wrong, I've just been thinking and it… and I…" He paused to gather his thoughts. It all made perfect sense in his head but somehow he doubted anyone else could quite understand. All he could do was say it and hope for the best. "I need to go somewhere tonight."

"Go?" asked Mrs. Weasley in alarm. "What do you mean go?"

"I need to see someone tonight," he said simply.

"But it's Christmas. The first Christmas we've all been together for a long time. Surely this could wait a few more days?"

"It can't, it has to be tonight. I'll be here for Christmas day, I promise, but tonight…tonight I need to be somewhere else."

"Who do you have to see that 's so important?" his father asked.

Ron squared his shoulders. "Professor Snape."

Mrs. Weasley's expression softened, and she and Mr. Weasley exchanged a knowing look. After a moment she gave him a small nod to her husband and he turned to look at his youngest son. "All right, then. We understand, Ron. Give our best to Severus and do be careful; it's snowing very heavily tonight."

It was much easier than Ron had expected but he knew better than to wait around and think about it. After giving each of them a quick kiss he ran upstairs to change his clothes and grab a few things. An hour later he found himself standing on the doorstep to a set of private rooms. His great idea suddenly seemed less so as he stood in the shadowed corridor. Would the professor find Ron's presence there an intrusion? Perhaps he didn't remember last year with the same fondness that Ron did. Perhaps the man he got to know in a ramshackle cottage during a blizzard was not the same man on the other side of the heavy wooden door.

Casting his insecurities aside, Ron raised his hand and rapped firmly on the door. A full minute passed before he tried again. Just as he was about ready to try one last time it finally opened to reveal one very surprised Potions master on the other side.

"Mr. Weasley? What are you doing here?"

Ron couldn't help but smile. "I was sort of hoping you wanted to play a game of chess." He held up an ancient Muggle chess set with mismatched pieces.

Snape looked at Ron, then to the chess set, and then back to Ron. His eyebrows sharply creased and a look of stark confusion stole across on his face. After a moment, he finally appeared to understand what Ron was asking; his forehead relaxed and his eyes almost seemed to shine. With a smirk he asked, "Are we to feast on bread and dried fruit as well."

Ron laughed. "Not this time. Mum loaded me down with a few provisions." He held up a basket full to bursting with food.

"How many people was your mother intending to feed?"

"You have seen me eat, right?" Ron's smile was returned and soon he entered the quiet of Snape's quarters and a new holiday tradition was born.

* * *

Over the next decade that tradition would evolve as most traditions do over the span of time. The chess set, though well loved, was retired and replaced with a new one that Severus had gifted to Ron several years prior. Ron was thrilled to note it was still a Muggle set. While the house elves now supplied the evening meal, Ron always brought his mother's apple walnut pie and some of Ginny's cookies, both of which Severus always had seconds. And though both Ron and Severus made an effort to meet more than once a year, that one night was always remained special.

As he had for several years, Ron made his way to the dungeons, but unlike the past years, Ron found himself nervous because just as traditions changed, so did feelings. Ron knew for certain that his feelings for Severus had grown over time. Tonight he was taking the chance that Severus's had as well.

It started out as respect, perhaps even gratitude, for bringing Percy home; then came an appreciation of the man who lived in shadows. Before Ron had realized it he had begun to enjoy Severus's biting wit and sometimes scathing sarcasm; when it wasn't aimed at him, it was rather entertaining. Soon he was thinking of excuses to call him or visit. It was when Severus had to cancel a visit because of some trouble with a student that Ron realized how much he wanted to see his former professor. He was disappointed, nearly inconsolable, at having the visit called off so suddenly. It was while he was moping around his flat that Fred stopped over and greeted him with a less then tactful, "Will you just jump him already. And do it before the New Year so I can win the pool."

Though he dated, Ron was never interested in the men he met for very long. David was far too sweet and accommodating; in short he was frightfully dull. Roger was beautiful but dim. Edgar had no interest in chess which, until confronted with the idea, Ron hadn't realized that it was a deal breaker. Conner was nearly perfect, but in the end he just wasn't enough. Ron realized that his heart belonged to someone else, and that it had for a long time.

He settled into his usual chair across from his former professor, a chess board set up on the table between them. Ron had drank a few glasses of wine as they caught up on certain events: births, deaths, marriages, Severus's mindless students, Ron's job at the Ministry, and the news of the day. Severus seemed to have noticed his friend's peculiar behavior because he commented, "Are you all right, Ron? You seem to be drinking more than you usually do."

"It's been a tiring day," he said sheepishly as he put his glass down.

"I can only imagine. Has your mother worked herself up into her usual holiday frenzy?"

"Of course," he began, pausing to clear his throat. "This year, however, this year she seems to have set her sights on me."

"On you? Twelve grandchildren not enough to worry about?"

Ron smiled, swallowed hard, and continued. "She keeps asking me when I plan to settle down. Bring my boyfriend round to meet the family. Keeps telling me her table feels incomplete Christmas day." Ron watched Severus's reaction carefully and was thrilled to notice those dark eyes look away at the mention of a boyfriend.

"I hadn't realized you were seeing anyone since Conner," he said cautiously.

"I have been. For some time. We're friends more than anything else, but I could see us being much more… I'd like us to be much more."

"What's stopping you?" The words came out so softly he might have missed them if he wasn't listening so carefully.

"He's a bit older. Set in his ways. Damn cantankerous at times. You know the type."

"Sounds lovely."

Ron was happy to hear the mocking tone in Severus's voice. "He is, in his way." He intensely hoped he was being obvious enough. If Severus was expecting a full out declaration, he would need several more glasses of wine.

The air thick with tension as he waited for a reaction from Severus who continued to sip his wine, his eyes honed in on the chess set. Ron's stomach began to twist as he was overcome with the fear that he had overstepped his bounds and completely misread Severus's actions towards him. The beginnings of an apology were on his lips when Severus spoke: "I suppose it's too late to find gifts for twelve children but I would hate to arrive empty handed." He looked up and into Ron's smiling face. Ron was torn between jumping up and down and grabbing Severus by the collar and kissing him.

He settled for some light teasing. "I had hoped for a more of a fight," he said with a cheeky grin. "I have spent the last four weeks coming up with arguments to counter any of your possible objections."

"The only objection I have is to the term 'boyfriend'. I'd like to maintain some dignity, if you wouldn't mind."

"Christmas at the Burrow is anything but dignified, so you'll have to get over that idiosyncrasy right quick."

Severus smiled but turned his eyes down once more. "Are you sure about this?"

"Dead sure," Ron answered honestly. "Aren't you?"

Severus regarded him for a moment. It was a look Ron had gotten used to over the years, it told him that Severus was about to reveal something private. Ron sat up straighter as Severus spoke. "I once thought it was merely a matter of enjoying the company of someone who wasn't looking for anything from me, a friendship based on equal terms. As time passed, and I found I looked forward to our meetings more and more, I realized certain truths about my feelings towards you. But I had no intention of possibly ending our traditional engagement had those feelings been one sided. I wouldn't risk it, so I said nothing. If this was all that I could expect, then it would be enough."

"So if I hadn't finally gotten my courage up, you wouldn't have said anything?"

"Probably not."

"The Slytherin way?"

"We are not foolish dreamers."

"No, you are foolish pragmatists."

Severus smiled. "Fair enough."

Ron couldn't help but think this should all feel far more awkward than it did, but perhaps it was a natural enough progression, one big step after a series of smaller ones. "Well, Professor Snape," he began, "it seems to me that as I have extended an offer, and you have accepted it, it would be only proper for us to seal the deal."

"And how is that accomplished. In the name of proper protocol, of course."

Ron said nothing but continued to smile. He got up and walked over to where Severus sat and joined him on the settee. Ron had thought about this moment for what he realized was years, but noted all the apprehension he thought he would be experiencing was absent. Instead, all that he found was a feeling of wholeness; every meeting, every chess game, every quiet conversation for the last ten years had led them to this one moment, to this one kiss.

Ron claimed Severus's lips with the enthusiasm of his youth and a passion a decade in the making. He was bold and insistent, forcing Severus's mouth to open and welcome him. Their lips fit each other's so perfectly, soft layers interlocking, fused together. Severus tasted of red wine and chocolate cookies, a combination Ron was certain he would never get enough of. And when he felt long slender fingers weave thought his hair and pull him ever closer, he knew it was right. It was all right.

His hand itched to touch Severus's skin, and though he ached to free the slender frame from the austere robes, he settled for touching the angular face and running his hand along a surprisingly soft cheek. Before long Ron found his breathing erratic and his fingers feverously grasping at strands of silky black hair. He wanted this. Wanted to run his hands all over Severus's willowy build. Wanted to bite into his soft, pale skin. Wanted to see what the rest of him tasted like. And as his blood raced through his veins, as he found it more difficult to breathe, and as it got harder and harder to pull away, Ron gathered what was left of his wits and stopped.

He stared at the beautifully flushed face of the Potions master and noted, with some satisfaction, that he figured out a rather extraordinary way to get color in those pale cheeks. It was, Ron thought, a rather good look for the man. And as he watched Severus try to quell his own rapid breathing, Ron found himself praying to any deity that would listen that the professor was not going to be shy about this. Ten years is a long enough courtship.

"I gather there will no chess tonight," Severus said softly.

Ron let out a barking laugh just before wrapping his arms around Severus's waist and laying back, pulling the Potions master with him. He loved the feel of that lithe body resting on his, loved the look of joy on a face that was at one time so full of darkness. He was on the verge of what could be a terribly embarrassing proclamation when he kissed Severus again.

His body was reacting vehemently to their position. He lifted one leg so that Severus's body fell neatly between his thighs, and when his hardness was met with another, he couldn't help but pull his head back and let it fall with a moan. Ron began to unbutton any button he could find, eager to feel the warm smooth skin he was certain was hiding beneath layers of clothing. And at the first sign of a long, slim neck and a pallid shoulder he bent forward and sank his teeth deep into the flesh.

He lapped at Severus's skin, running his tongue along the tight muscles. Suddenly Ron felt a hand snake between them and felt Severus's fingers claw hungrily the tightness he found there. Ron's head fell back again in a moan and he was sure, so sure he was about to come right then and there.

"Keep that up and I won't last," he panted, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Severus laughed. "Don't even think about it; I have plans for you this evening. I demand sufficient recompense before spending all of tomorrow with your family."

Ron laughed burying his face in to Severus's neck and hair. "That might take years to pay off."

Severus smiled a rather wicked smile. "Oh, believe me, it will."

_Finis_


End file.
